


Feel

by Uncontinuous (nights_fang)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Acts, Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights_fang/pseuds/Uncontinuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Michael thinks too much, and Adam really wishes he wouldn't. Written for _blubells for the 5 Acts Meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluebells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/gifts).



Michael would've never done this before. Human lust is beneath him. This sin is beneath him. Or rather was beneath him, before he fell into the Cage, nearly went insane with the loss of the voice of the heavenly host and that connection to his Father at the back on his mind, and was brought out back to the world grace turned into flesh, mortal and weak.

But that was then, and this is _now_.

Now, Adam trails his fingers along the scars on Michael's body. Some old and ancient from wars aeons passed. Some from Lucifer in the Cage. Some even from Adam himself, once he started fighting back down there. Those fingers move all the way up to his face, skirting over the silk blindfold. Michael had been alarmed when Adam had made him wear it. He didn't mind his hands being bound, but the blindfold was a different matter. He was already lost without his grace, adjusting very badly to having only the five restrictive senses humans possessed. But Adam had insisted, voice going low and soothing with an authoritative undercurrent; like an _order_ , as he tugged Michael's jeans off leaving the former archangel naked under him.

It had been ages since Michael had been ordered in any tone of voice. Not even Raphael who had an equal standing in Heaven had tried ordering him, once, even though he'd known Raphael would've liked too. (Even one for Michael to stop and rest and think selfishly once instead of blindly following a dead God.) Michael's been yearning to follow someone for so long, that all it took was that voice, and he'd settled in unconsciously, body going slack, as Adam tied silk around his eyes with deft fingers.

Those fingers go into his hair, rubbing a slow massage over his scalp. Michael moans, unable to help himself, arching a little into the touch. It's pleasant, comforting. He can hear a huff somewhere above him, and he's not sure but he thinks it sounds amused.

“You think too much.” Adam's breath is suddenly at his ear, and Michael would yelp and jump in a manner completely alien to his once regal angelic self, if Adam's hips weren't holding him in place. Adam's other hand is trailing over the scars on Michael's chest again, almost a light rake of blunt nails, adding to sensation. Michael thinks that Adam's smiling. He doesn't know how, but he can _feel_ it.

“How many times have I told you not to think. Just _feel_ Michael.” the words are punctuated with Adam flicking a nipple, and this time Michael does arch, hips connecting with Adam, against the rough fabric of Adam's jeans, and sending a surge of electricity up his spine.

“ _Fuck_ ” Adam breathes out, grinding back down against Michael. And despite the roughness of the fabric against him Michael smiles, because he can imagine the face Adam is making right now. He likes the breathless quality Adam's voice has suddenly taken on.

Adam nips his ear for that, and couples it with pinching Michael's nipple, making Michael arch again. This time, Adam's prepared for it, because he presses down into Michael as Michael arches, pulling a moan out of Michael.

“Better,” Adam breathes out softly against Michael's ear, as he begins walking his fingers down Michael's skin, teasingly trailing right above his hips. Michael shivers at the cool breath on his ear, and tries to press up again, to feel more of Adam's hands, but Adam keeps his touch light and almost ticklish making wide arches over his abs, not giving Michael satisfaction.

  
It's only when Michael settles back onto the bed, that Adam continues his trek downwards stroking lightly along Michael's erection. Michael bites back a groan and doesn't try to buck into Adam this time.

“Good, just keep feeling.” Adam hums, lazily as he rubs the pad of his thumb over the tip of Michael's erection, making Michael gasp.

Briefly he wishes he still had his wings. Wishes they were still tangible. He wonders what it would feel like to have Adam's talented fingers carding through them. Maybe Adam would run his fingers through Michael's feathers like he does with Michael's hair. Or maybe he would tease along the appendages, or his joints, he thinks with a slight pleasant shudder, emphasised by a particularly gentle squeeze on him. Michael wonders if he's imagining how intense this sensation is feeling. Adam's touched him like this before, yet it's never made him become like this. He's sure if his past self or any of his brothers could see him now, they'd be disgusted. Sneer at how Michael was willingly giving himself to a boy he'd thought of as collateral and second best. At how Michael had stooped so low despite his new mortality to this type of pleasure and worship of flesh (because Adam does touch him in an almost reverential way, despite everything). But they aren't human and they haven't dealt with the enigma that is Adam Milligan who can take and give punishment in hell just as good as any angel, can forgive with more warmth than the Father who created him, and can reduce people and former angels to a mere boneless heap of nerves and flesh, singing in pleasure.

Or as Adam would crudely put it: Fuck them

There's a sharp squeeze, almost painful, and before Adam takes his hands away. “You're thinking too much again.” he cautions and Michael whimpers at the loss of those fingers. In his hair and on his skin. The pressure on the bed eases and he knows Adam's getting off.

Michael shifts alarmed, tugging at this binds and trying to get out. He's helpless here if Adam's left him, no grace to use to get himself out, and his all his human strength is useless again Adam's skill at these knots.

There's a dip in one side of the bed immediately, and fingers are back in his hair, rubbing into his temples. Above him he can hear Adam shushing him softly, yet it seems to echo in the dingy room they're in, overlapping him.

“Right here. Not leaving you.” As if to confirm it, Michael feels Adam's chapped lips press against his forehead. Adam's hips come against his again, as he pulls Michael into his lap, this time without the fabric of his jeans in the way. He never even heard the rustle of clothes being removed, but finally having this skin to skin contact is heady and almost dizzying.

Adam's fingers leave his hair. Minutes ache on by, and the only thing Michael can feel is the heat of Adam's thighs bleeding into his own. Then Adam's fingers are trailing up his thighs, around the curve of his ass, slowly around the ring of muscle, and Michael gasps knowing what comes next.

Adam leans forward again, chest pressing against Michael's own, their cocks rubbing against each other, and murmurs against Michael's lips, as he presses one finger inside Michael. “Relax. Open up for me. Come on.” With that he kisses Michael, slow, lazy, teasing Michael's mouth open with his teeth and tongue, and if Michael were standing his knees would be weak.

  
Michael does without the barest hint of hesitation, Need seeping into the way he immediately presses down into Adam's finger, and wraps his leg around Adam's waist. “More,” he begs, _begs_ , into the kiss shameless and wanton, all his archangel pride forgotten in favour of this heat and electricity and pleasure.

Adam smiles against his lips – Michael imagines it's indulgent, it seems that way – and acquiesces sliding in another finger to join the first, and starting up a rhythm. Slow, and irregular, enough to be unpredictable and leave Michael gasping for what little breath he has left, which Adam seems intent on stealing too, while Adam's fingers search for that bundle of nerves that'll turn Michael into putty.

Adam's skin is slick with sweat, and he's warm, so very warm above Michael, and his lips are soft, and he's so hard against Michael's own erection whenever they touch with Adam's fingers thrusting into him. It's too much sensation to experience at once, with these muted human senses. But he knows Adam isn't done yet, and when Adam find his prostrate, Michael breaks the kiss, head thrown back against the pillow, too breathless to even moan. Adam laughs into the skin of his throat, as he keeps moving his fingers in and out of Michael, still achingly slow, but Michael doesn't mind because he can feel his release already creeping up on him.

Adam probably knows it too, because he takes them both in his hand, and starts stroking Michael in earnest. Fast and quick short strokes, and he's still laughing when Michael thrusts back up into his hand wildly. “You're beautiful like this,” Adam breathes out.

Michael doesn't believe it. Not when he looks at everything in hindsight. Not when his mortality is a mirror to how ugly he truly is. But when Adam says it, he thinks it might be true.

Adam crooks his fingers inside Michael, leaning in and pressing his lips to Michael's temple, and Michael forgets about everything except for Adam.

“Let go, Michael.” The words are whispered so softly, rasped into Michael's hair. It's the lowest he's ever heard Adam's voice go, and it has that undercurrent of authority again, the one that makes Michael sink into a daze and listen. “Come for me.”

Michael does, back arching into a high arch, garbled Enochian falling from his lips, as he does.

By the time he stops panting and comes down from the afterglow, Adam has pulled his fingers away, undone the binds, and the blindfold too. Adam is rubbing his fingers into where the binds have cut into his wrists and marked his skin, kissing them apologetically. Michael offers him a tired smile, watching Adam's lips intently with hooded eyes. Adam smirks when he notices.

“Round two?” he questions, quirking an amused eyebrow. Though, his fingers are already trailing over Michael's hips.

Michael tugs him into a kiss an a reply.


End file.
